


King Snow & the Snow Queen

by Azdaema



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Frozen (2013), Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Brother/Sister Incest, Canon-Atypical Lack of Violence, Crack Crossover, Crack Treated Somewhat Seriously, Crossover, F/F, F/M, Female Friendship, Fluff and Crack, Half-Sibling Incest, Love Confessions, Male-Female Friendship, Mutual Pining, Parallels, Political Alliances, Sibling Incest, Sister/Sister Incest, breaking into song, canon-typical incest, musical numbers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-21
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2019-04-05 16:30:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14048280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azdaema/pseuds/Azdaema
Summary: The Queen of Arendelle comes to meet with the new King in the North. What starts as a political meeting ends with Jon and Elsa commiserating on how they'd really like to marry their sisters.





	1. Jon & Elsa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't tell you exactly what timeline or iteration Jon and Sansa are from. Not exactly the book-verse, and not exactly the show-verse either. Sansa and Jon are together at Winterfell, like in the show, but Jon became King in the North through the legitimized bastard thing with Robb making him his heir, like in the books. R + L may or may not = J, but it's not relevant. If it does, it's not widely known, and they don't have the evidence needed to back up the claim.
> 
> Also note: Elsa is pale, with blue eyes and ice powers. It would be completely understandable if Jon reacted very fearfully and violently to this. I'm not taking that route, since I'm aiming for fun crack with this fic. The Elsa and White Walker parallels are being completely ignored. Jon doesn't know about her magic, even though Essosi rulers claiming magical powers isn't that weird. I just wanted fun crack.

The first thing Jon noticed when she stepped out of the carriage was her hair, so fair it was nearly white. _She looks like a Targaryen,_ he thought, _or at least Lyseni._ Had the Valyrian Freehold had conquered as far as Arendelle? He didn't think so, but then again, he would admit he knew very little about Arendelle—only that it was the northernmost point in Essos, west of the Isle of Ib.

Arendelle's queen was followed out by a woman with light auburn hair. Despite their dissimilar coloring, they were alike of face: large, jewel-like eyes, the same nose and chin, though the auburn-haired girl's face was perhaps a touch rounder. She stood slightly behind the queen, her eyes flicking between Jon, and Sansa who stood by his side.

"King Snow," the Queen of Arendelle greeted. Her voice was confident and her tone warm, but he could tell from the way she gripped her hands together that she was nervous—perhaps unsure how to greet a foreigner. "I had thought to meet you in your throne room."

 _Perhaps we should've waited there,_ Jon suddenly worried.

"After so long a journey to get here, we were happy to come out to greet you," Sansa said.

Their guest smiled. Though her body language betrayed her trepidation, her face and voice were perfectly schooled. She curtsied to Sansa. "The Queen in the North. How kind of you."

‘The Queen in the North.’ Had no one told Queen Elsa of Arendelle that he was unwed? How could that be? Jon had been fairly sure that was the reason this equally unmarried Essosi queen had come, even if their letters had only spoken of the threats beyond the Wall.

Behind Elsa, the other woman's eyes kept darting between Jon and Sansa, with the smallest frown of confusion. Jon forced himself not to turn to glace Sansa herself, to gauge her reaction.

"Ah, no," he corrected gently. "Queen Elsa, this is my sister, the Lady Sansa Stark."

"Ah," said the queen, as if some mystery had just been cleared up. "Of course. My apologies Lady Sansa." Elsa reached behind her and took her companion's hand, pulling her stand by her side. "This is _my_ sister, Princess Anna."

Anna blushed slightly and looked at the ground, murmuring, "My lord, my lady."

Sansa gracefully moved past it. "You have come a long way, and you must be tired and road-weary. Come, let me show you to your chambers."

"That is very kind of you, Lady Sansa, but if it's possible I would like to speak to King Snow _now_. I have many questions for him about the things beyond the Wall."

"Of course."

Anna looked at her sister uncertainty, and Elsa gave her hand a squeeze, then dropped it. "Go on. See that our trunks are brought up, and I'll join you there later."

Anna nodded once, then followed Sansa out of the courtyard. As they left, the late afternoon sunlight shone on both women's hair, turning it to fire.

Jon felt a sudden pang. He wished she Sansa was not leaving, wished he was not being left alone with a queen from a land he knew almost nothing about, to negotiate an alliance he would most likely have to seal with marriage.

Elsa and Jon starred after Anna and Sansa, but it wasn't until their sisters had turned the corner out of sight that either realized they had been staring. When they did, Elsa shuffled her feet awkwardly, and Jon was sorely tempted to do the same. "You must be cold," he said quickly to cover it up. "Come, let us speak in my solar."

"The cold doesn't bother me," the queen replied, but it was merely a comment, not a protest, and she followed Jon anyways.

* * *

* * *

"Arendelle is a very small kingdom," Elsa said when Jon had finished. "Smaller than the Free Cities, you understand? I will not ask any of my people to come to a foreign land and fight in your war. If other northern places are truly at risk, as you fear, then they will be needed back home.

"But," she continued, just as Jon's heart was sinking, "we do well in trade. We can bring grain from Essos—not a lot, let me be clear, but enough to perhaps ease the pain of the South's blockade. And you spoke of needing Valyrian steel. I believe I have a few pieces of Valyrian steel in the treasury back in Arendelle. I have no need of them. These I can give to you."

This was as good as he could've hoped, from a kingdom of Arendelle's size. When he spoke, Jon was so overcome with gratitude that his voice wavered for a second. " _Thank you._ "

He put his hands on the desk to steady himself. Then in an overly calm voice, whose measured nature belied his nervousness, he asked, "And what do you want in return?"

"Alliance," she said simply. "Arendelle is a very small kingdom, and we are in need of allies.

"Of course," Jon nodded. He pushed himself to ask, "If there a specific reason you need allies now?"

Elsa blushed. "Yes. There may... I fear there will be an issue with the Southern Isles."

"The Summer Isles?"

"No, the _Southern_ Isles."

"Where is that?"

"Do you have a map?"

"Yes, but not here. Shall I send for one?"

"Later. Westerosi maps of Essos are not very good anyways." She realized what she had said, then quickly added, "I mean no offense. I have a map in my trunk. I shall make of it a gift for you."

"There is no need."

"I insist. A gift for my new ally."

"Very well. Thank you."

"The exact location of the Southern Isles is not of terrible importance. Rather..." She hesitated, sighed, then said plainly, "I fear my sister may have caused a diplomatic problem with the Southern Islanders."

"What happened?"

"She spurred their prince."

"She turned down his offer?"

"Yes."

"Surely that's not so bad. You sister is kissed by fire—she must have many suitors, and she cannot marry them all."

"Kissed by fire?"

"It's what the—the folk from the far north call those with red hair. It's considered very beautiful and lucky."

"Like _your_ sister."

"Yes."

Elsa opened her mouth, but closed it again. She hesitated, again opened her mouth—and again closed it without saying anything.

"What?"

"Forgive me, it's unimportant."

"No, what?"

She hesitated once more before asking, "Why _isn't_ she Queen in the North?"

Jon looked down at his lap. "Many reasons. She is my sister—well, half-sister. The North needs both of us to marry for alliances."

"I thought Westerosi kings always married their sisters."

"No. Well, yes, but that was a Targaryen tradition, brought from Valyria." He added, "The Targaryens were the old dynasty," because he didn't know how much Elsa knew of Westerosi history—he knew almost nothing of Arendelle's. "After they were overthrown, we did away with that. They Targaryens were mad. The last king burnt men to death," he lowered his voice slightly as he explained, "among them our grandfather and uncle. We don't want to be like Targaryens."

"Then don't burn men to death," Elsa declared simply. She raised her hand for emphasis, and in a suddenly serious voice said, "Let me be clear: if you start burning men to death, our alliance is over." She dropped her hand, and her tone became conversational again. "But you could marry her without doing that."

Jon didn't respond.

Elsa continued on. "I won't claim to understand much of Westerosi politics, with your innumerable civil wars and overthrows in the last few decades—you can't expect the rest of the world to keep up with all that. But what I do know is this: the Kingdom of the North is new, and you are a legitimized bastard. You need to establish yourself as king, and taking on some traditions of past kings would not be a bad way to go about it."

"We both need to marry for alliances."

"When you wrote to me looking to form an alliance, you did not offer marriage."

Jon winced internally. He took a minute to formulate his words, trying not to offend. "As you have said yourself, Arendelle is a very small kingdom, and while I am immensely grateful to have you as an ally, two alliances with kingdoms the size of Arendelle would not be enough for the North to stand a chance in the coming war. And if each of those two alliances had each cost us a marriage, we would be left not only vulnerable, but without hope of any _other_ alliances. I hoped that an alliance with Arendelle would not require a marriage, and that hope proved true." He sighed quietly. "But even so, I was prepared to marry you if it proved necessary. Even one small alliance is better than none."

"I said nothing of marriage in our letters."

"You decided to _come all the way for Arendelle_ to _treat with me in person_."

"Because Anna wanted to come. She's been stuck at court her whole life, and it's my fault. She wanted to see more of the world and I saw no good reason to deny her." Elsa sighed. "King Snow, I do not wish to marry you. But even if I did, I would not wish to be your wife as long as Lady Sansa stands beside you looking like your queen, and with you staring longingly after her when she leaves the room. I doubt any woman would want that role. If you do get a marriage alliance, you may end up alienating your bride, and then whole alliance could suffer for that." Elsa sat back as if she had suddenly realized what she was saying, and began to backpedal. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be telling you how to form alliances. That's just my perspective on it, as a woman and an ally, and—"

Jon held up a hand. "It's alright. It is not your place to tell me who to marry. But it is a poor king who surrounds himself with sycophants, and I am glad my new ally is not that." He sighed. "Why are you _not_ seeking alliances by marriage?"

"What?"

"You claim Arendelle needs allies. I did not offer marriage, yet neither did you. And you're seeking an ally far across the sea rather than simply having your sister marry the Southern prince."

Elsa's face flickered somehow, as then everything fell into place in Jon's mind.

"Oh," was all he could say. _You know nothing, Jon Snow,_ his mind whispered. "You too?"

"What?"

"What did you call it—‘staring longingly after her when she leaves the room’?"

"When Lady Sansa led Anna to her rooms, yes."

"I wasn't the only one staring."

"What?"

"That's why you recognized it so easily, isn't it?"

"You were waxing poetic about how her hair is like fire!"

Jon shrugged blithely. "But you're still in love with Anna, aren't you?"

"No, I—"

"Pardon me, but I served on the Wall for years. The Night's Watch is a castle of men and _only_ men. I know that men do not only lust after women. I cannot believe women are so different."

Elsa looked away, and took a moment to gather herself. "Alright."

"Alright?"

"Yes, I supposed it's the same. Except that you have traditions that means you could marry her, and I do not." She sighed quietly. "And so yes, perhaps that's why it's rather frustrating to see you squandering that chance."

Jon looked down, suddenly embarrassed that he had teased. "I'm sorry."

Elsa said nothing, just gave him a sad half-smile.

"Could you take her as your mistress?" 

Elsa hesitated. "Theoretically, I suppose I could."

Jon wondered if that was advisable. The Targaryens had gotten away with so much by being boldly unapologetic—they were the kings, and if they saw nothing wrong with it, who would dare claim otherwise? But this? Rulers were not above reproach, and _queens_ particularly. Jon was reminded of Cersei, and then of Queen Naerys.

But they were surreptitiously sleeping with their _brothers_ —there was paternity in question. Would anyone mind if it was two _sisters_? Would anyone even recognize it for what it was? Well, perhaps, if she was blatantly keeping her as her mistress. He remembered what Sansa had told him, rumors about Margaery Tyrell. But even so—

"Why _don't_ you marry her?" Elsa asked.

Jon was started out of his musings and looked up. "I told you."

"You told me reasons. I told you they were foolish ones, and you didn't disagree. Now really: why don't you?"

Jon shifted awkwardly.

"You _can_. Do you understand how lucky that is? Almost _no one else_ could, but you—you're a Westerosi king. You actually _can_. And yet you still don't. Why?"

She was demanding an answer. He had none to give.

Something changed in her eyes, and her voice was sympathetic when she cautiously asked, "It is unreciprocated?"

Finally, he said quietly, "I don't know." _You know nothing,_ his mind parroted back at him.

"And?" Elsa prompted.

He gave a frustrated groan. "Have I told her? No. Does she know? I don't know. Maybe. If she knew, I wouldn't be surprised. I mean, _you_ figured it out with minutes of meeting me. I'm clearly not very good at hiding it. But if she _didn't_ know, I wouldn't be surprised either." He drew in a deep breath. "Might she reciprocate?" He let out the breath, slow and controlled. "I don't know. I wouldn't be surprised either way."

"You're afraid, aren't you?" There was compassion in her voice.

"Yes."

"You're afraid. The world has given you the perfect circumstances, and now you're afraid to take it. They told me stories about you on the ship, you know—about how you let the people from the far north through your wall, even though everyone said you were a fool for doing it. Adversity you can deal with but this—it's come together perfectly, and all there is is for you to tell her, and you're afraid."

He couldn't meet her eyes. "I was never supposed to be king. I was never supposed to be able to take a wife. I'm a bastard, and a crow. I don't deserve this, and I don't deserve her."

Elsa's voice suddenly turned cold. "King Snow, she is a woman. Not a prize to be won. You don't have to ‘deserve’ her."

Jon looked up, startled. The queen's eyes were icy.

"I'm sorry," he murmured.

"It is not me you need to apologize to."

"I _know_." He then added, slightly annoyed, "I do know some things."

Elsa looked slightly puzzled by this statement but didn't ask. "Then go."

"What?"

"Go to her. Apologize. Tell her."

_"What?"_

"You said you knew. Why are you confused?"

"No—I know, but..."

"But you're afraid."

_"Yes!"_

Her eyes softened. "Then it's a good thing you have an ally." She smiled wryly. "Truth be told, I need an ally too."

"Wait, Anna doesn't know?" He stared at her. " _Everything_ you were saying, and you haven't told Anna either?"

She looked indignant. "Yes, but at least I know I _should_. I'm not pretending to myself that I don't owe it to her!"

"You kept saying, ‘You're afraid,’ when you're too afraid yourself!"

"Alright! We're both afraid! And this is why we need allies."

Jon looked at Elsa for a long moment, then at the door. "So we're actually going to go do this?"

Elsa suddenly looked rather nervous herself. "I think so," she whispered. Then she corrected herself, and in a much stronger tone, she declared, "King Snow, if you do not have the courage required to confess your love for a lady, perhaps I need to rethink my decision to unite with you in a war against the Others. Arendelle does not need craven allies, and—"

Jon started to laugh. "Alright."

"Alright?"

"Yes, _alright_."

Suddenly Elsa was once again the nervous one. "So we're really doing this?"

"Yes. We're really doing this. Come on." And he started for the door.

Elsa took a deep breath and followed him. "To brave allies," she said with a nervous smile.

"To brave allies."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The line about how she is not a prize to be won was taken from [_Queen's Gambit_ by bedlamsbard](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1287526/chapters/4307136), because it's kind of the greatest, most perfect, on-point line ever.


	2. Sansa & Anna

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Anna and Sansa commiserate on how southern princes make the _worst_ fiancés, and Anna is very disappointed to learn that There Is More Than One Bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had some vague ideas about Sansa and Anna having a similar conversation of their own, but this chapter would never have come to fruition without feedback from people who wanted to see it. So thank you to [Mahe729](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mahe729/pseuds/Mahe729), [MarsyMars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarsyMars/pseuds/MarsyMars), [IceWraith](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IceWraith/pseuds/IceWraith), and [Liisiko](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liisiko/pseuds/Liisiko)—your nice comments could thaw a frozen heart. And with special-extra thanks and gratitude to Mahe729 for betaing.

"The castle is beautiful, Lady Sansa," Anna said politely.

Internally, Sansa winced. They passed a team of builders hammering away at something rectangular. Shutters for the windows, she thought, although she couldn't be sure. Theon's sacking of Winterfell had been incomplete, but there was still a great deal of damage, both from fire and weather. They had repaired the main keep—fresh timber crossbeams, a new roof—and replaced some of the doors. But there was still much that needed doing, and the knowledge that it would be impossible to fully restore the castle before winter truly set it weighed heavy on both Sansa and Jon.

But Anna had meant nothing by her comment. It was a simple nicety, no more, and Sansa simply said, "Thank you."

"I've never been to a foreign palace before," Anna admitted, blushing slightly. "This is the first time I've left Arendelle."

"Do you miss home?"

"Yes, of course I do... but it's so amazing, traveling. I don't _realize_ I miss home most of the time." She glanced sideways at her host. Sansa the younger of the two women, but that was easy to forget. "I suppose _you've_ been all over the world."

Sansa shook her head. "Just Westeros. I've never been to Essos. Still, I remember the first time I left home—how exciting it was."

"When was that?"

"I was eleven, and I went south to King's Landing—that's the capital of the South. This was before the North seceded," Sansa explained in a strained voice. "I'd just been betrothed to the prince, and I was going to live at court."

"I supposed you didn't marry him?" Anna asked cautiously. "Since you're here now?"

"No," Sansa replied, more shortly than she meant to. "He executed my father, then held me as a prisoner of war."

"...oh," Anna whispered, looking both horrified and mortified. "I'm sorry." She hesitated, then said in a rush, "If it helps, I was once engaged to a southern prince who tried to kill me and my sister and take over our kingdom."

Sansa stopped in her tracks, staring briefly. "...I'm sorry that happened to you."

Anna stubbed her toe against the floor. "It was my fault. I _wanted_ to marry him—at first, I mean. Obviously not later."

Sansa was taken aback by this confession—not by the events, but by this Eastern girl's earnestness and vulnerability. She didn't even _try_ to hide anything; she seemed to _want_ to tell someone. _She's from a different culture,_ Sansa reminded herself. Then she heard herself saying, to her own slight surprise, "I wanted to marry Joffrey at first too. He was pretending to be nice. It was all a mummer's farce."

Anna looked up at her, eyes wide. "Really?"

"Yes, really. I didn't know any better back then, and I was too stubborn to listen to my sister when she told me I was being a fool."

Anna looked as though she was about to cry, yet at the same time she was almost _beaming_ at Sansa. "Southern princes are the _worst_!"

Sansa felt something bubbling up in her chest. She caught Anna's eye again, and then they were laughing together. For a split second, Sansa felt lighter than she had in months. "They _really are_! May you and I never have to marry them!"

Anna grinned at her, and the pair started walking again.

Anna's smile quickly faded as anxiety returned. Nervously she asked, "Will this alliance have to be sealed with marriage?"

Sansa thought back to the uncomfortable conversation she and Jon had had days before, regarding the same question, and replied simply, "If your queen demands it."

Anna seemed to sag with relief. "But King Snow won't demand it?"

Sansa shook her head mutely.

Anna grabbed Sansa's hands, and said very emphatically, " _Thank you_ for telling me."

"So _your_ queen won't demand it?" Sansa asked, needing certainty on this point.

"No."

A measure of tension went out of Sansa's shoulders. "Thank you as well." She gave Anna's hand an affectionate squeeze, then dropped it.

As they continued on, Sansa conversationally inquired, "You two are close?"

"Yes. We weren't always, but we are now." Anna hurriedly explained, "I always _loved_ her. But there was a time when being close to her was... hard."

Sansa nodded knowingly. "Jon and I didn't use to be close either. I never appreciated him when I was little. Now—I trust him more than anyone in the world."

"Elsa shut me out for most of our childhood. And I'm _so_ glad and so _grateful_ I have her now, but sometimes it... hurts, to think of how much time we missed out on."

Something about her guileless guest prompted Sansa to be earnest as well. "When we were children, Jon and my sister Arya were extremely close. They'd play their little games and run around together, cackling and whispering ‘don't tell Sansa!’" Sansa wrapped her arms around herself. She had once imagined that everything she had gone through might inoculate her against the more minor pains of life. She was wrong on that count. "Arya always hissed it just loud enough that I could hear."

"I'm sorry," Anna murmured.

"Thank you," Sansa replied softly.

They didn't speak again until they reached the guest chambers.

When they did, and Sansa threw open the door. She banished the last of her melancholy, and with a hospitable smile declared, "These are to be your chambers. I hope you find them comfortable."

Anna entered, and her face broke into a grin. She spun about in a circle in sheer delight, and beamed at Sansa. "Thank you, my lady. This room is lovely, and I'm sure we'll be very comfortable here. Please don't worry about the bed—Elsa and I will be happy to share."

Sansa frowned slightly. "The queen will have the room down the hall, with the solar attached."

"No really, it's fine—we can share, it's all good."

"Winterfell is a large castle—we have plenty of rooms for all our guests."

"But it's fine—don't trouble yourself."

Sansa's frown deepened, "We would never dream of making a _queen_ share, particularly a queen we hope will become an ally. If you wish to share, of course that can be arranged... but will all due respect Princess Anna, I should like to ask your sister about this matter. I do not want her to think that we Northerners are poor hosts who do not have enough beds."

Anna flushed and looked down at her boots. "Of course. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to imply... this is a lovely room, and I'm sure Elsa's is just as nice, and I didn't mean to imply _anything_ about you as a host."

"If you wish to share, I can arrange that—I just need to discuss it with your queen."

Anna blushed even harder. "No. Don't do that. It's fine."

"It's no trouble. I can speak to her after she's done meeting with Jon. I just want to be clear that Winterfell is capable of hosting her entire entourage—I'm the Lady of Winterfell, surely you understand—"

"I do! I understand! It's fine! I'll stay here. You don't need to tell Elsa."

"But if you would prefer to share, I can easily arrange that. You are my guests and I want you to be as comfortable as possible."

"No. No. I'll stay here. There's no reason to share now that we're no longer traveling."

‘There's no reason to share now that we're no longer traveling.’ Sansa had said the very same thing to Jon when they first arrived at Winterfell. That had been a painfully awkward discussion—while they were traveling, they had shared a tent, the main reason being so Jon could protect her. Sansa had not really believed that any of their men would harm her, but she understood that what Jon really meant was, ‘I was not there to protect you then. Please, let me be there now.’ Other nominal reason included that having one less tent to carry and set up was easier for their men, and that a shared tent was warmer. Sansa had never been sure how true that last one was—she attributed most of the heat to the fact that sharing a tent often made her flush, with embarrassment, and something else.

When they got to Winterfell, their men at once set about repairing the lady's chambers. Not Catelyn's rooms—Ned had changed the tradition for her, giving her warmer rooms closer to the hot springs. To have her mother's old rooms would be more than Sansa could bear. No, these were the _historical_ lady's chambers, last used by her late grandmother Lyarra—Lord Rickard's cousin, and a true northerner. There was something about having the lady's chambers that Sansa quite liked—it was a trapping of power for the Lady of Winterfell, and a sign of respect. But still, to have a room of her own again after living in Jon's tent did come with a sense of loss, as well. She had tried to discuss it with him, but lacking any good reason she could cite for why they should continue to share, the conversation had gone nowhere.

Now, Sansa surveyed Anna with new eyes, and fought to keep a small smirk from the corners of her mouth. She took a moment to gather her mirth, then asked gently, "Princess Anna, have you ever been told you wear your heart on your sleeve?"

"Yes."

"I know you come from a different culture—but you are in Westeros right now. I say this because you are my guest and I wish to protect you: you _cannot_ let your emotions be so transparent for all to see. When you protest too much, you make it clear that you care too much—that you have other reasons for wanting or not wanting to share her bed."

Anna froze in place, her eyes wide as a deer's.

"It's alright. I won't tell. We honor guest rights here, and even if you were not my guest, I have no wish to see you hurt or shamed. I am letting you know because not everyone will be so kind, and you need to learn to protect yourself. Do you understand?"

Anna nodded mutely.

Sansa led her to the chair by the fire, beside the table bearing a tray that held a small measure of bread and salt. "Here," Sansa prompted. "Eat."

Anna took a small bite of bread before asking, her voice high and shaking, "Do you... are women... could you tell because... are other women to your liking?" She quickly added, "I don't mean _me_ , I just..."

Sansa had not been quite sure until this moment—for all she knew, Anna's reasons for wishing to share a bed could've been very different than her own. Perhaps the girl suffered from nightmares that she didn't want anyone but her sister to know about. But _this_ , this left no room for misunderstanding.

Sansa thought on her question for a moment. "Sometimes, yes," she answered simply. "But that isn't why I could tell. Or, well... perhaps in part. But truly, Princess, you cannot display your every emotion plain in your voice. The world is not so oblivious as you think, nor as kind as you might hope."

"I _don't_ think the world is oblivious!" Anna snapped with sudden fierceness.

Brief shame hit Sansa. _Teach her without demeaning her as Cersei did to you,_ she scolded herself.

Anna was terrified babbling wreck. "It doesn't _mean_ anything! I know have _terrible_ taste in lovers! I wanted to marry Hans the very day I met him!" She quickly clarified, "Hans is the southern prince," then buried her face in her hands. "My heart is an idiot. I can't trust it. What do I know about love?"

"But you've learned, right?"

"What?"

"We were young and _incredibly_ foolish, but we've both learned since then. You can't _trust_ people you just met. They might be two-faced liars—you can't immediately know their true intentions. And so people you've known your whole life are better."

"We've both learned... both!" She turned to face Sansa, her eyes alight with realization. "You and your brother, you—"

"No," Sansa said firmly. "We're not. I'm not Queen in the North, I told you as much already."

"But you want to be."

"No, I don't."

"You just told me about the importance of dissembling! And _then_ you said how people you just meet can lie to you easily! So how can I believe you when you say that?"

"I don't want to be Queen in the North," Sansa insisted.

"So saying it with a cold voice—that's the trick to dissembling, then?"

"Anna! I don't want to be his queen!"

"Ah ha!" Anna's eyes took on a triumphant gleam. "This is the protests-too-much thing, isn't it?"

Sansa's face fluttered between emotions for a moment, and Anna grinned triumphantly.

"This is why dissembling is so important." Sansa jumped on the role of teacher, trying to steer the conversation that way. "You recognized the protests-too-much thing—good, you're learning. But the real trick is to be able to recognize it in _yourself_ , and stop before you do it."

Anna didn't reply; she just grinned at Sansa, looking self-satisfied in a vaguely feline way.

Sansa was just about to continue on her teacher spiel when she heard the familiar click of nails against stone. She looked over her shoulder to see Ghost step into the doorway. "They're coming!" Sansa announced, holding up one hand in warning to Anna, while she extended the other hand for Ghost to lick.

Anna simply _starred_. "That's a wolf!"

"Yes." As if this was a polite introduction between two humans, she said, "This is Ghost, my brother's direwolf. Ghost, this is Princess Anna of Arendelle." To Anna, she added, "Jon trusts Ghost as much as he trusts me, and I trust Ghost as much as I trust my brother. He won't hurt you. But if he's here then Jon and your sister won't be far behind. So _shush about it, ok_?!"

Anna nodded, suddenly looking nervous.

Sansa took a deep breath in and composed her features.

Anna brushed the breadcrumbs off her skirts and took a deep breath as well, trying to center herself as Sansa had, though with rather less success.

Sansa could hear the sound of footsteps down the hall now, and she stepped out to greet them once again.


	3. Jon & Sansa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jon doesn't really understand the "we're in a musical!" aspects of Arendelsk culture, but finds them kind of charming anyways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I don't write truly shippy stuff. Like _ever_. I'm aro ace, and being able to naturally generate romantic content just doesn't happen to me. But then I wrote this chapter. I think it had something to do with their Disney-esque joy and optimism bleeding over not only into _A Song of Ice and Fire_ , but also into me. I do know that it's not terribly original, but I was _actually able to write it_! It wasn't even torturous! And for me, that's a victory.
> 
> Again, thank you so much to Mahe729, once for betaing, and then a second time for the charming headcanon that Jon has absolutely _none_ of Rhaegar's musical talent. And thank you to _everyone_ for your patience. This chapter is both shorter than the others _and_ took longer for me to edit and get posted, thanks to Real Life Reasons. I'm sorry for that.
> 
>  **A note about the song:** Elsa's song at the beginning is meant to be a reprise of ["Dangerous to Dream,"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c1zlG69CMuQ) which is one of the new songs from the stage play. I listened to it for the first time while I was working on this fic, and it gave me both Elsanna feels and just plain Elsa feels.
> 
>  **A note about my usage of the word _Arendelsk_ :** I wasn't sure what the adjectival form of _Arendelle_ should be, so I poked around on Wiktionary a bit and found out that _-sk_ is the usual Norwegian ending for making an adjective out of place-names. So I thought _Arendellesk_ , which I googled... which led me to the comments on [this](https://archiveofourown.org/chapters/22217534?show_comments=true) fic, where someone did the research and laid out all the possible options. Of those options, I chose _Arendelsk_.

* * *

* * *

Jon reached down and buried his hand in Ghost's thick coat for reassurance.

Beside him, Elsa began to quietly sing.

 _"It's finally come, time to knock on her door_  
_I can't hide this time like I hid before_  
_I have to tell her, and the risk is real_  
_My time's running out, don't conceal, don't conceal."_

"That's pretty," Jon remarked. "What is it?"

"What?"

"The song you were singing. What's it called?"

"Oh, it's just one of my songs."

"One of your songs? You write music?"

"No." She looked confused.

"Then what do you mean it's ‘your song’?"

"It's one of my songs. In my life." She looked at Jon expectantly. When his expression became even more baffled, she shook her head. "You Westerosi are so stra—different! Never mind it."

And so Jon dropped the matter. Under her breath, Elsa continued to sing.

 _"I can't be what you expect of me_  
_And I'm not what I seem_  
_But I know I'm in love with you_  
_Is it dangerous to dream?"_

The castle got warmer as they neared the guest chambers. When they were close, Ghost left Jon's side, jogging ahead to greet Sansa as he so often did.

Ghost seemed to understand that Sansa had lost Lady, and he appeared to have taken it upon himself to be her wolf too. He often walked the corridors of Winterfell by her side, and he slept at the foot of her bed every night. Sansa slept more peacefully with the loyal sentinel on guard, and Jon slept better too, knowing she was safe. And if he sometimes warged into Ghost late at night and fell asleep curled next to her, listening to the rhythm of her deep breathing, well, what was the harm in it? He hadn't noticed how soothing the rhythm of breathing was until he died.

They turned the corner, and Jon explained to Elsa, "This hall is the guests' quarters. That room will be your," he pointed the one at the end of the hall, "and that one your sister's." It was the only room on the corridor with an open door.

Elsa squeezed Jon's arm. "To brave allies," she said again.

"To brave allies," he murmured.

They continued on, passing into the room. Sansa seemed to be expecting them, but Anna flinched.

"We've reached an agreement," Jon announced. "An alliance has been made."

"Arendelle will support the North in their war, and the North will support Arendelle against the Southern Isles," Elsa explained.

Both of their sisters seemed to relax a little upon hearing this.

Elsa took a deep breath. "And now, pardon me King Snow, Lady Sansa, but I should like to speak with my sister in private for a moment, if I may."

"Of course." Jon and Elsa exchanged a significant look as he stepped out of the room with Sansa.

Sansa stiffened as she watched it pass between them.

Jon and Sansa padded down the hall, Ghost between them. She waited until they were down the stairs before blurting out, "Are you going to marry her?"

Jon laughed, a bubbling laugh full of escaping nerves. "No." He turned and grinned at her. "There is to be no marriage to seal our new alliance."

Sansa allowed herself a moment to grin too.

Jon tore his gaze away, and wouldn't meet her eyes again. They stepped outside and began to walk along the side of the building, along the outer edge of the godswood.

"Although," Jon said in a voice that was trying far too hard to be nonchalant, "Queen Elsa _did_ have some ideas about who I should marry."

"Oh?" Sansa was trying to keep her voice measured, but it ended up just sounding cold. "Who?"

He had to look at her—he _had_ to look at her for this part. But his neck wouldn't move. It was too late to turn back now. She was watching him, curious—he could _feel_ her eyes on him. The pause had stretched out too long, but his neck wouldn't move and—

Ghost gave Jon's hand a supportive lick. His lungs unclenched the tiniest bit.

"You."

Sansa stared at him for a minute while her heart did something complicated. Then without any input from her, the old rote phase came tumbling out of her mouth. "We both need to marry for alliances."

"We just made an ally without that." Somehow, it was easier to breathe now. Like jumping into cold water—the plunge is worse than the cold that follows.

Sansa was at a loss for words.

Jon, on the other hand, found his words tumbling out in a rush. "We can talk through the details in a minute, but right now _please_ , just tell me, I have to know—do you even want to?"

She felt light, as if she was observing the scene from outside of her own body.

"Yes," she whispered.

There was a flurry of snow and furs as Jon ran to close the two-step gap between them, and enclose her in his arms as if it were a second reunion. He kissed her brow, then her lips, and then her lips again.

With their foreheads pressed together, he tried very hard to breathe in a way that would accommodate speakings. "So the details. Um—Elsa said that even if I _did_ marry for an alliance, I'd probably ruin it and make an enemy of them by staring at you all the time."

Sansa laughed at that, a joyful bell-like sound, and Jon found himself laughing too in giddy relief.

"So it's better if I avoid that. Just let any potential allies know we're both already married, and then make other kinds of alliances. The North is a new kingdom—well, a resurgent one, but close enough—and we can just establish from the beginning that marrying siblings is a thing royalty does. It's an established kingly thing thanks to the Targaryens."

Sansa looked pained at that. "Jon, it's really not a royal thing—it's a _Valyrian_ thing, you _know_ that. The Lann—"

"Yes, well it _could_ be a kingly thing. The Lannisters—that's a different matter. Of _course_ people were upset about the queen passing off her bastards as legitimate." He sounded suddenly bitter. "The issue was _bastardy_ —not incest, not really. The issue is _always_ bastardy."

Sansa gave his hand a sympathetic squeeze.

Jon paused for breath and gathered his emotions. When he continued on it was in a more neutral voice. "I think that the biggest difference is _hiding_. The Lannisters hid and lied. The Targaryens didn't. How can you be accused of that which you do openly? And yes, maybe they got away with it because they had dragons _at first_ —but the last dragon died during the reign of King Aegon III and the Targaryens kept marrying each other for over a century! And besides," he added fondly, reaching over and laying a hand on Ghost's head, "we have a direwolf. That's just as good."

Sansa listened, looking hopeful but unsure. "Ghost is fierce, but he can't breathe fire," she pointed out, gently rejecting the joke.

"I know," he said, quiet and suddenly solemn. He took a deep breath in, then continued, all jesting aside. "It would unify our claims, and strength the house. I'm a legitimized bastard and there are already whispers—they fear another Blackfyre Rebellion, between your children and mine. By marrying, we unite the legitimate and legitimized lines. We solidify House Stark, and strengthen the North."

Sansa smiled and gave his hand a squeeze. "See? That's a much better argument than Ghost as—" Suddenly she looked up at the window of the room one floor up, and paused to listen for a moment. "Are they... _singing_?"

Jon cocked his ear. "I think so."

They both broke into peals of laughter.

"Queen Elsa actually started singing while we were walking over, too! I think it's an Arendelsk thing or something."

"They're so..."

"I know! I like Queen Elsa though. I think she'll prove to be a good ally. And a good friend."

"Wait, you said this was _her_ idea of who you should marry, yes?"

"Yes. Or, well, I'd already thought about marrying you... I thought about it more than I care to admit." He blushed, but Sansa looked very pleased with herself. "It seemed impossible though. But she... she asked me why you _weren't_ Queen in the North, and wouldn't listen to any of my reasons. In the end she... dared me, I suppose, to tell you."

Sansa looked suddenly indignant.

"No! Not like that, not like that—I swear!" he added hurriedly before she could say anything. "In the way of... ‘this is a terrifying thing to do and I need an ally.’ And so she said she was going to tell Anna—oh, also, she's in love with Anna. She's like Margaery Tyrell, I suppose."

Sansa gaped for a moment before dissolving into a fit of giggles.

"What? What? _Tell me,_ what's so funny?"

Sansa fought to be able to speak. "Anna... she... her too..." was all she managed to get out, waving her hand for emphasis, hoping that Jon would understand.

Then Jon was cackling as well.

It was a while before their laughter subsided. When it did, a light snow had begun to fall, and Sansa realized Jon was staring at her, unexpectedly pensive.

"What?" she asked, still shaking with mirth.

"The singing—it just made me think about our Westerosi songs. You know the one: _I loved a maid as fair as summer, with sunlight in her hair_?"

She nodded.

"It was _absolutely_ written by a Southerner." He reached up to run his fingers lightly over her hair, where the flakes were starting to catch, and began to sing, albeit quite poorly:

_"I loved a maid as fair as... something—"_

Sansa snorted.

_"—with snowflakes in her hair."_

She kissed him again.


	4. Elsa & Anna

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which I return to this project after a hiatus, and the Arendelle sisters sing reprises of the new _Frozen_ Broadway songs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this scene is a musical number. These little song bits are all supposed to be reprises of the _Frozen_ songs. To hear the original song that correlates with each one, click the little snowflake  ❄

* * *

* * *

Elsa twisted at her hands. She had taken to wearing gloves once again when they left Arendelle, because she _couldn't afford_ to mess up while she was in a foreign land. She had it under control—she thought, she _hoped_ —but what with concealing her feelings from Anna, the idea of another outburst wasn't impossible.

Elsa took a deep breath. "Pardon me King Snow, Lady Sansa, but I should like to speak with my sister in private for a moment, if I may."

"Of course," Jon replied. He gave Elsa a significant look as he stepped out of the room with Sansa.

The moment the door had closed behind the Northerners, Anna blurted out, "Do I have to marry him for the alliance? Do you?"

She sounded terrified, and Elsa instinctively hugged her. "No, no. No marriage needed. Just a mutual alliance between the two young sovereigns of two northern nations." Anna relaxed in her arms, and Elsa whispered, "And if it _had_ , I _told_ you: I would do it. I would never marry you off, Anna, and _especially_ not without even telling you."

"I thought this _would be_ you telling me." Anna's voice was somewhat muffled by the hug.

"No." Elsa withdrew. She looked out the window, pivoted on her toe, and fidgeted with her hands again. "No. This... I have to tell you something _else_. It's not political."

"Ok." Anna sounded gentle as she said it, her voice laced with curiosity, and the sympathy she always had when Elsa got nervous about anything.

Elsa fidgeted more urgently. "I don't _expect_ anything of you; I'm not _asking_ anything of you. I just have to tell you because," she gestured to with one hand to the other, "when don't... you know, my powers..."

Anna rushed to her side. _"Tell me._ Not even about your powers. Tell me because you _promised_ not to shut me out anymore. _Please._ You're my sister—you can tell me _anything_ , I promise."

Elsa laughed hollowly and buried her face in her hands. She stood facing away from Anna, and became quietly to sing.

 _"I have to be so cautious_ [❄](https://youtu.be/mteCnI5-NU8?t=1m49s)  
_And you're so extreme_  
_We're different, you and I_  
_And it's dangerous to dream."_

Anna stepped forward and laid a hand on her shoulder.

 _"You don't have to protect me! I'm not afraid!_ [❄](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tcJW2YGlkxM)  
_Please don't shut me out again, please don't slam the door!"_

Elsa forced herself to turn around and face Anna, who looked so pleading, so wishing to help.

 _"Don't do this again Elsa_  
_Please let me understand_  
_Don't do this again Elsa_  
_C'mon and take my hand."_

Elsa nervously nodded, but did not take Anna's outstretched hand—her hand was too dangerous right now to risk it. She began:

 _"There's so much I've longed to say."_ [❄](https://youtu.be/t7G3WUw0HCI?t=26s)

Anna urged her on eagerly.

_"Then say it all, beginning with today."_

Elsa hesitated again.

_"It's like a dream, I know can never be."_

_"Elsa, tell me!_  
_Let it go, let it go!_  
_Tell me, you can, it's true,_  
_Let it go, let it go!"_

Suddenly, Elsa blurted it out:

 _"I am in love with you._  
_And here I stand_  
_In the light of day_  
_Well, now it's out..."_

The fear hitting her now that she was no longer singing, at it was in a whisper that she finished, "...what are you going to say?"

Anna could only stare for a moment. Then she found her voice.

 _"I take this warmth within and send it up above,_  
_Goodbye to dark and fear,_  
_Let's fill this world with light and love!_  
_Now that you've finally told me this at last_  
_I wonder why **I** didn't_  
_Tell **you** in the past!_

Elsa joined in, and began to harmonize with her sister.

 _"Let it go, let it go_  
_Then we'll rise like the break of dawn_  
_Let it go, let it go_  
_The fear and cold are gone_  
_Here we stand in the light of day_  
_Let our true love go_  
_Let it go!"_

She let the last quavering note fade before gathering Anna into her arms.

Kissing Anna felt a lot like singing a duet with her. That shouldn't have surprised Elsa, but somehow it did.

They broke apart only when thumping sound began to come from the trunk in the corner. Anna gasped, suddenly remembering, and rushed to open it.

Olaf bounded out.

Anna held up her hands, trying to pacify Elsa. "I know you said that bringing living snow abroad wasn't a good idea, but he _really_ wanted to come, and I..."

But Elsa was laughing.

With her laughing, Olaf decided it was now safe to speak. He sang merrily to himself:

 _"Sister, lover_ [❄](https://youtu.be/IHUvALTEDJQ?t=2m23s)  
_We need each other_  
_To fix us up and round us out!"_

Olaf beamed up at them. "Aww! Look at you two! Eating each other's noses, just like me and Sven!"

Elsa internally winced. "Olaf, kissing is _not_ the same as Sven trying to eat your nose."

But Anna only laughed. She beamed down at the snowman. "Elsa loves me," she announced.

Olaf took on a familiar expression, the one that said he didn't understand the world or what was going on in it. "I know?"

Anna shook her head, still laughing. "No, Olaf. Elsa's _in love_ with me."

"I know?" he repeated.

Elsa joined in the laughter. "I suppose I really _was_ pretty terrible at hiding it, wasn't I?"

"You were hiding it?"

Elsa winced. "Yes?"

"Oh." The snowman took a moment to adjust to this new information. "Then yes, you were terrible at hiding it." He nodded sagely, a gesture which made Anna giggle all over again. "Declaring your love for her frequently and publicly made it pretty obvious."

Elsa facepalmed. "You knew. King Snow knew. Apparently _everyone_ knew except Anna."

"King Snow...?" The blood drained from Anna's face. "Are you serious? Does he really—"

"Yes. But it's fine! He's... well, ok, first thing is that he's in love with his sister Lady Sansa. Second thing is that he's telling her so right now, or at least he _should_ be, unless he was too craven to do it."

"Wait, _really?_  I mean, I noticed the way he stared after her but I figured... I guess I figured I was just projecting."

"Who's King Snow? Do you mean Marshmallow? Is he the king of all snow?"

"No, Olaf," Anna explained patiently. "King Snow is a _human_ king. ‘Snow’ is just his name. He's our host right now." Turning back to Elsa, Anna nervously said, "Good. That's good. Because Sansa kindoffiguredoutI'minlovewithyou." She said the last bit all in a rush.

But Elsa only laughed, a high joyful sound.

"She thinks it's a good idea," Anna added encouragingly. "She thinks the problem with Hans was that I'd just met him—"

"True," Elsa put in.

"—and so you'd be a better suitor, since I've known you my whole life."

Elsa was laughing once again. "I'm not saying she's _wrong_ , Anna—I actually think that's a really good point—but, ‘You didn't know your old fiancé well enough, so you should become your sister's mistress,’ is not the kind of argument that anyone who... well, _anyone at all_ , actually—makes. If Lady Sansa told _you_ that, then it's because she's been telling _herself_ that."

"Huh," Anna reflected. "Well, that makes sense. Good for her. No more southern princes for either of us. But Elsa, you can tell me all about your meeting and everything King Snow said later—I really do want to hear about it, I swear—but for right now could that just... wait? I've been curious about this Westerosi king ever since we left Arendelle, but I've been curious about kissing you for a lot longer than that."

Elsa was very willing to oblige her sister's request.


End file.
